The Aches and Pains of Quinn Fabray
by ImpossibleThings
Summary: It was a tepid winter's day when she decided to take her own life. To give fair warning, this story will deal with suicide and the like.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! It's been a while. What can I say? I've finally left prison, otherwise known as high school. My time looks set to be free for the next little while. Reasons I will not abandon this story: a) I actually know how to write well now b) I am free to write whenever I choose c) I suffer a little from SAD, so lots of inspiration, trust me.

I've always wanted to write about this subject, because Quinn so obviously has post natal depression to some degree. I know it's a tough subject for some of you, so if you have any issues, let me know, okay?

Glee is owned by Ryan Murphy or Fox or something. Not me, anyhow. There'd be a lot more continuity and a lot more Naya/Hemo screen time if that were the case.

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><p>It was a tepid winter evening when Quinn decided to take her own life.<p>

The timing seemed fitting: a quick scan of her diary and page after page of checks she had scribbled like a prisoner marked the many days since she had last set eyes on her baby (pink, the first time she was taken away from her; blue, since the day they were reunited – black, the days since she lost her for good). A glance into the bathroom cabinet showed the stockpiling had been a success. Most importantly, it had been 27 hours since Quinn had last slept, 41 since she had attempted to play the piano, 68 since the Golden Girls reruns had ended, 93 since she had read all the books in the house, and 216 hours since she had last shown her face at McKinley High.

So the moment was optimal, she decided.

Quinn had chosen pills. The excruciating pain to come was poetic, in a way; the time she would suffer would be repentance enough.

And so this is how she settled her life – a clean room, a tidy desk upon which sat a letter addressed to her daughter, a white gown to finally rest in; her short hair once more brushed straight, her bible by her side.

Thus, the moment came.

There was no swelling crescendo. It was the quiet climax of her life, he feet perched precariously on the edge of the gaping, monstrous abyss, shuffling ever closer to jump. As Quinn sat on her bed, she noted the lack of music – nothing but her own quiet voice, humming a melancholy and meaningless tune in the still and silent air; no weeping, no one to rock her to sleep – all in all, a lacklustre end to a mediocre life. _Not with a bang but a whimper._ Quickly, she opened the clear orange bottle and tipped it full into her mouth, sending a few blue and red pills scattering across the wooden floor. The water took care of the rest.

Finally, peace.

Quinn lay down on her made up bed, rosary wrapped tightly around her wrist, and turned for one last look at her daughter. A blurry photo taken from a cell phone was encased in a simple silver frame upon the nightstand. With a resigned sigh and once last straightening of her nightgown, she closed her eyes and drifted away.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again! Another short chapter here. Things to look forward to next time: plot development! Dialogue! An interesting storyline! At least, hopefully. I think it's going to be good. I have a lot of time on my hands soon. Any way, thank you all for the kind gestures. A note: I was going for something with the hospital beds in my description - I think Quinn would have a hatred for them, after Beth. So that's what that's referring to. Any how. On with the show.

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><p>It wasn't the way she had wanted to be found.<p>

When she woke up, Quinn thought she was in heaven. It's not something she would ever admit – not until many years afterwards – but the bright white light of the ambulance was so reminiscent of what her pastor had promised her when she was a little girl that it was a pure second of relief, of soul wrenching relief, before the utter horror of reality set in. Two paramedics were forcing something god awful down her throat, and when she fully came to, panic set in. Quinn lunged off the side of the bed they had her on, those hospital _things_ that felt like life and death were right under her bones, fighting and scratching the men trying to save her life. She gagged and threw up as the ambulance raced around corners and over bumps, barrelling towards the hospital. It was utter chaos, and Quinn wanted to scream; this was not how it was supposed to end.

Well, it wasn't so much that she wanted to scream: Quinn wanted to claw her way out of life. To be dragged from the brink of her death was cruel, so very cruel, and it was as if the ambulance was standing in her way: if she could just make it out of the doors, just get out and get away, she could make it, she could be free of her life, if only she could make it out those goddamned doors –

But it was not to be. Before you could say suicide attempt, the ambulance had screeched to a halt outside of Lima General Hospital. The doors were flung open; Quinn was pushed onto the bed before a woman wearing yellow yanked the whole apparatus, including Quinn, outside. She hacked and spluttered as the doctors wheeled her inside, shouting numbers and instructions over her head that Quinn couldn't understand. Instead, she shut her eyes and prayed once more for the ordeal to end.

Quinn woke up.

The act was a miracle (or, a least, a happier ending). So she woke up, and there was no fanfare, no applause; no chorus of angel's voices welcoming her, nor sobs from loved ones surrounding her beside. Not for the first time, Quinn felt utterly alone, and she relished the validation it gave her. No one cared. No one was here. They were all there for fucking Rachel Berry and her dramatic nose insecurities; they were all there for Kurt and his gay problems, but when Quinn Fabray had a child ripped from her arms there was no one, and when Quinn fucking Fabray swallowed a bottle of pills they still didn't care. Bastards, all of them. Uncaring bastards.

The nurse came in and he ignored her at first so she called him a bastard too, and felt better, so she screamed it at him and threw her bed pan at his head. It probably wasn't the wisest choice because after the next onslaught of nurses running into her room, machines beeping like they were signalling the end of the earth and the thick cloud of sedation carried her to blissful unconsciousness, she woke up in darkness with her wrists strapped to the bed.

So the next time a nurse came to check her charts at 5am she kicked her in the face instead, and that was the end of her stint in the ICU. When Quinn next opened her eyes, she was lying in a small room with white walls and white floors and scratchy white sheets. The colors did nothing to fool Quinn. She knew she was in hell.


End file.
